


through the years we all will be together

by jadeddiva



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, not really OQ as much as it is Regina and Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:19:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5507984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeddiva/pseuds/jadeddiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry suggests a family holiday baking extravaganza, which gives Regina a chance to work on her relationship with Snow.  Regina-centric with some OQ and Regal Believer</p>
            </blockquote>





	through the years we all will be together

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the baking party mentioned in my CS fic, let nothing you dismay. For Alison, who wanted to see it :)

In the eighteen years before Henry’s entrance into her life, Regina has a lot of time to learn about the land without magic and its various and sundry customs. 

Holidays have always been the most fascinating to her, because there’s clearly magic at work and yet there’s _not_.  There’s no such thing as organized religion in the Enchanted Forest like in this new realm, probably because when there’s actual magic there’s no need to make sense of the unknown, but holidays here are all about the suspension of disbelief and blind faith that in her experience often comes through magic.

Like believing a fat man deposits presents underneath an overly-decorated evergreen tree.

  
The Enchanted Forest did have Yule, meant to mark the coldest day and darkest night, and Regina has pleasant enough memories of it as a child: sleigh rides with her father; hot cider spiked with cloves and ginger; a special feast where even the servants were given choice cuts of meat.  When she was queen, the court’s celebration was a bit more extravagant but it was still something she clung to in those dark days, for Leopold always left the palace during winter and traveled south, claiming the winter was Ava’s favorite season and memories of her haunted the castle and so Regina was left alone (and it was all the better for her).

The curse means that everyone comes to this land with built-in understanding of the culture and customs, so it’s almost second-nature to feel the need to decorate for the holidays once the weather turns cold (it is a town that celebrates Christmas, but Regina has read that there are other places with other celebrations in the dark of the winter as well).  The shops in town start to spray artificial snow in the windows and advertise holiday specials, and there are carolers on every corner and holiday lights on every house.

 It really was a beautiful realm, in the end.  

She buys a tree, and sets it up in the corner of her living room before realizing that this will not do. Several more trips to the store for lights, tinsel garland, glass ornaments, and a large star to place on top makes it minutely better.   She buys a wreath for the front door as well, and some electric candles for the windows.

Next, holidays mean baking, so she tries her hand at a few of the varieties of desserts of this land (she likes sugar cookies the best, because she’s never been much for chocolate and the chocolate here is too sweet for her).  

Finally, it is Christmas Eve, and she realizes that part of this tradition is gift-giving.  Yet, there is no one her who will give her gifts (sure, the citizens leave small gifts for the mayor but they are not thoughtful like she’s seen in all of the advertisements on TV) and so she buys herself a lovely necklace and wraps it, leaving it under the tree.

And that is the beginning.

Each year she does the same thing, curating her decorations from garish to refined in a color scheme that complements her home, buying herself ridiculously expensive gifts of jewelry and lingerie and pretending that they’re from someone else, learning how to make peppermint bark and chocolate chip cookies and pecan pie.  

Every year, it gets a bit more forced.  Every year, she tries a bit harder.

And then there is Henry.

Now there is a reason to make cookies and to deck the halls, and soon there are presents for her under the tree – small ornaments with his hand prints from childcare, hand-made gifts from elementary school, and then ones he buys with his allowance that are cheap facsimiles of the expensive jewelry she once bought but far more precious to her.  

And for Henry, she goes all out: action figures and crafts and instruments and a bike one year, everything from his list which was given diligently to the Santa at the hardware store when he posed for photos, and which she memorized before she went shopping (she loves the look of sheer joy on his face when he opens each present, the weight of his arms around her neck when he hugs her, _thank you_ spoken against her shoulder 

Now there is someone to make cookies with her, someone to go with her and pick out the tree, someone to make every moment so much more precious, so much more important.

 

…

 

The curse is broken, and then is re-cast, and is broken again.

And then there is Robin, and little Roland too.

 

…

 

“What if we had a baking party this year?” Henry asks one morning as they walk to school.

“Baking party?”

“Yeah – like a holiday baking extravaganza?” he repeats, and Regina laughs at his phrasing (she’s not surprised, though, this kid did come up with _Operation Cobra_ after all _)._

“Did Emma say she wanted to bake cookies?” Regina asks, curious as to where this idea came from, and Henry shrugs.

“Probably not – she can’t cook anything to save her life,” he tells her, “but I figure Grandma – Mary Margaret might want to.  She mentioned something about baking last weekend.”

“Oh.  Okay.  We can think about it,” Regina promises him before kissing his forehead (she wonders how long she’ll be able to keep doing this, to keep him her little man even if he’s as tall as her).  

It’s not an idle promise: Regina does think about it, at length, for the rest of the day as she goes through the motions of running this town.  

Her relationship with Snow has been complicated – more complicated than any other relationship she’s had (even her custody issues with Emma have been incredibly straightforward compared to what stands between her and Snow). It’s not like she was always out to get Snow; instead, it was a slowly-simmering rage that she’s had ample time to reflect on, and which she can sit and attribute to multiple factors including Leopold’s clear preference for his daughter’s company and lack of attention to his wife, the callous attitude of her mother, and of course the outright manipulation by both Cora and Rumplestiltskin.  But, she’s just as much to blame for not being better, for not being bigger, for taking the fucking easy way out that – for giving in to darkness.

But it’s not like it was always bad.

Sometimes Leopold’s travels left him away from the castle around Yule, and there were times when Regina and Snow were a family (she can still remember the cider she instructed the cook to make that reminded her of home, remembers the smell of cloves and ginger and apple hanging in the air).

Things have been better lately.  She’s been trying, and Snow has always embraced _hope_ as her personal doctrine, and the relationship has gotten better – not like what it was during their best days, but good enough that Henry’s suggestion isn’t completely unwarranted. 

She thinks about it as she stops by Granny’s for a post-lunch coffee to go, where she runs into Snow and Charming and where (after polite small talk) she just asks her and tries not to overthink it.

“We bake a lot during the holidays.  I was wondering you wanted to come as well.”  Her heart is in her throat as she looks at her (former?) step-daughter (if she wants to be the better person, if she wants to be a hero, then all the good she’s done doesn’t matter if she can’t fix this relationship).

The smile that breaks across Snow’s face is like the sun after the rain, and Regina can’t help but be moved by it.  “I would love to,” she responds, and Regina knows that the joy is mirrored on her own face.

 

…

 

That night, when Roland is fast asleep in his room, and there is only a sliver of light peaking out from under the door of Henry’s, Regina tells Robin her plan.

It was an unconscious decision for Robin and Roland to move into the large house when they returned from New York, and it has worked remarkably well.  Roland and Henry enjoy each other’s company, and they fall into a family routine so easily that it doesn’t feel like a new thing, but rather something that’s existed for longer than Regina can remember.

“Holiday baking extravaganza,” Robin repeats after her as they stand in the bathroom, brushing their teeth. “Certainly an imaginative turn of phrase.”

Regina spits into the sink. “It certainly is,” she responds, using her thumb to wipe a speck of toothpaste off the the corner of her mouth.

“It sounds like a fantastic plan,” Robin tells her as they slide into bed.

“You’re only saying that because you’ll benefit from the fruits of our labors.” Regina turns off the light, slips into his arms.  She rests her head on his chest.

“Can you blame me?” he asks, then adds, “this is a good thing.”

“I think so,” she admits, and as Robin slowly strokes her back.

“But you sound hesitant.”

Regina inhales slowly. “I’m not hesitant.  I’m just…”

The truth is, Regina doesn’t really now what she is.   She’s a lot of things – excited and apprehensive and nervous and nostalgic and just really hopeful.  She would like things to be better than they were – would like to build a better bridge than the one that once existed which she burned down.  She’d like to add _baking with Snow_ to her list of family traditions.

Robin kisses her head. “I think it will be fine,” he tells her, and she wants to believe him.  

She thinks that she will.

 

…

 

All week long, Snow texts her.

**What are we baking?**

**Can we try this cookie recipe I found?**

**Do you need me to bring anything?**

Regina tells her sugar cookies and peppermint bark and chocolate chip cookies and Snow asks about salted caramel brownies.  Regina tells her that no, she will buy everything.   They’ve got it under control.

When Regina is at the grocery store and her phone buzzes for the fifth time, she pulls it out of her coat pocket and hands it to Robin.  “I don’t even want to know,” is what she tells him, but that’s not the truth.  The truth is that she’s never handled Snow’s enthusiasm well, let alone when it’s directed at her (it’s exhausting to be in the direct path of so much sheer joy) and she needs a moment to collect herself and focus on the task at hand, which is figuring out where all the chocolate chips have gone.

“She wants to know if you have a crock pot,” Robin reads aloud, and Regina frowns 

“She does know we’re baking, right?” Regina says, and then turns to Robin, nodding (of course she’s got a crock pot – she’s been president of the PTO since she can remember).

Robin types the message back to her just as the piped-in music changes from that stupid gold-digger Christmas song to something a bit more subdued, a bit more Regina’s style.

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_ , the singer croons just as Regina finds the last bag of chocolate chips hidden behind some chopped walnut pieces.  She tosses the bag into the cart. 

When Regina first came to this realm, the music was hard to get used to since she had never heard most of the sounds or rhythms, but she grew to like it.  Christmas music, though, with it’s overly-sentimental tone wasn’t something she was into, but there were a few ones that stood out.  At her most melancholy, and then at her most joyous when Henry first came home, this song made her feel grounded.  

 

She hums along to it as Robin slides the phone back into her pocket, giving her ass a squeeze in the process (she likes the way he touches her, likes the casual way that he shows his interest) and they continue down the aisle towards the next one, where they buy cereal for Chex Mix.

 

…

 

Saturday dawns bright and early, and she’s barely awake when Snow arrives, lugging two large bags of her own.

“Crock pot?” she asks, setting then down on the counter, and Regina gestures towards the corner of her kitchen.  Snow descends on it eagerly, and it takes Regina a few more sips of coffee to realize that something is up.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and Snow looks up with a smile.

“Remember that cider we used to drink? Well I found a recipe that tastes like what we had back in the Enchanted Forest and I thought that would be nice.”  Her smile falters under Regina’s question (she is nervous).   Regina opens her mouth then closes it, surprised but moved.

“That sounds lovely,” she says finally, and the tension is broken.

Soon the kitchen is full of the smells of cloves and ginger and apples, and the memories return.

“Remember that one time it snowed and the guards couldn’t open the door for the mummers?” Snow asks as they roll out the dough, Henry and Roland busy picking out cookie cutters.

“Remember that one time with the new cook forgot to check on the goose?” Regina ask as she washes bowls in the sink.  Snow takes a sip of her cider, and the doorbell rings to signal the arrival of Emma.

With Emma, Regina realizes that there are three generations here (if she still considers herself Snow’s stepmother, if Snow does the same).  Four, with Henry, who has run out with Roland into the snow as the cookies bake. Emma does not do much to help – she sticks around for a while, clearly lost in her own thoughts about what to buy Hook for Christmas – but she does enjoy the cider, says as much as they take cookies in and out of the oven, and as Regina finally spikes it with some whiskey.

When they are finished, and the cookies are all cooling, it is nearly supper and so Emma leaves, and Henry and Roland run upstairs to change out of their damp clothes.  

Snow lingers in the doorway, a plate of cookies in her hand to take home to David.

“I had fun,” she tells Regina, and Regina nods.  She did too. She had forgotten how easy it is to fall back into a rhythm of family life with Snow, regardless of all of the years and the mileage.  She had forgotten how nice it was to have family beyond just Henry.

“Thank you for helping with the baking,” she says, realizing how formal it sounds once the words leave her mouth, but Snow just smiles.

“We should do this again next year.”  And then she steps forward and hugs Regina tightly and Regina responds, and there’s something – a missing piece in all this holiday splendor – that is suddenly found. Everything clicks into place, and she feels whole.  Better, in fact, than she’s ever been. 

It’s only later, when Robin returns from his day out, and Regina is sitting by the fire sipping cider spiked with whiskey, that everything hits home: she has done what she can to repair the wounds she made, she has done what she can do fix the hurt she caused, and with that persistence comes joy, and family.

_From now on your troubles will be miles away_ , she thinks as she takes a sip of cider, feels the weight of Robin settle down on the sofa next to her.  As Robin smiles at her, she feels her heart lighten.

Next year they can have the baking party at the loft, she thinks.  

 

 


End file.
